


(210): they're using the ping pong table for ping pong. it's weird

by kendrasaunders



Series: Legends College AU [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Multi, Some Kendra/Sara fooling around bc I know who I am, Sport Happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7471716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the thing is, if rip had just been okay with wearing tiny little gym shorts for ping pong, none of this would've happened. but what's kendra's competitive streak, sara's shameless flirting, and a little in-class fingering between friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	(210): they're using the ping pong table for ping pong. it's weird

**Author's Note:**

> so, kendra's competitive streak is sort of a non-magical/alien way for her to have her demigoddess side come out. also, points if you can spot the references.

The entire group has assembled in his room.

Which is great. Because he’d been in class. And had not let anyone into his room.

And yet.

Here they are.

“What are you doing here?” Rip asks, shifting under his coat.

“Hanging out,” Jax says. “Why?”

“I thought you were supposed to be in-“ Sara gestures. “We had something for this.”

“Tiddlywinks pitter patter,” Mick says, not changing his tone or expression or general presence for a person that just said those words.

“No, no,” Len says. “It was Paddle Skidoo.”

“Wait!” Sara snaps her fingers. “Rip’s supposed to be in glory glory tiny rackets God save the Queen.”

“I thought we said Tardis Frisbee?” Ray offers.

“PUT ANOTHER DOLLAR IN THE JAR,” Sara yells, pointing sternly to the corner of the room. “We went over this, Raymond.”

He lets out a frustrated huff. “Fine.”

“What the fuck,” Rip says. “Are you people talking about?”

“The funny name British people have for ping pong,” Mick says. “We were trying to figure out what you’d call it.”

“We call it _table tennis,”_ Rip hisses, already getting pink.

“Nah, that’s not right,” Len says. “I think Sara was getting warmer with the tiny rackets.”

Kendra slams her hand on the bed frame. “Tiny rackets tiddlywinks!”

“Yes!” Sara yells. “That’s the one!”

“TABLE TENNIS!” Rip says. “It’s TABLE TENNIS.”

“Nah, asshole, it’s ping pong,” Mick says.

Rip lets out a shrill, wordless noise of frustration.

“Yeah, so why aren’t you in tiny rackets tiddlywinks?” Sara asks. “Not like you to skip class.”

“I’ll find a different class,” Rip says, slumping against the door. “Alright? It’s still early in the semester, I’ll just find another phys ed course and take that and I’ll drop this one and everything will be completely fine, I’m sure, just totally fine, just-“

“Is that why you’re trying to wrap your coat around yourself like that?” Mick says. “Cause you’re clinging to that thing for dear life.”

“Okay, thank you,” Sara says. “I really couldn’t decide if he was being more fidgety than usual or if it was just his normal amount.”

“It’s significantly more,” Len says. “He’s more of a nail biter than anything.”

“I’m so glad you’ve been cataloging my behaviors,” Rip snaps. “Really.”

“Just show us what’s underneath,” Len returns. “Come on. Did you get hazed? Did a bunch of jocks steal your clothes?”

Mick grins, cracking his knuckles. “Finally, a good reason to go burn down the gym.”

“No-“ Rip waves a warning hand at him. “Mick, no. No one stole my clothes. I’m. Well.” He gulps down a breath of air, and opens his coat.

“Wow,” Kendra says.

“I think it would be less embarrassing if you were naked,” Sara adds.

Rip is all pale leg and wobbly knees, springing from a tiny pair of red shorts. “I didn’t think they actually made you wear gym uniforms.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Sara says. “Weird.”

“Kind of seems like one of those things that happens on TV but not actually in real life,” Jax pipes in, rolling onto his side.  “Shit, your legs are pale.”

Rip sighs. “I know, Jax.”

“I mean, for real though,” Sara says. “You’re already pretty pasty, but have you ever actually let your legs see natural light? Is that allowed in England?”

“Aw, come on,” Ray says. “I think he looks cute.”

“Gay,” Len adds, without a hint of irony.

Ray just gives a happy little shrug.

“The point is,” Rip says. “I’ll see if I can’t take nutrition or something. See if I can’t get this stupid physical credit some other way.”

“Boo,” Sara says. “Nutrition is boring. And come on. Ray’s right. You’re sort of like. So uncomfortable looking that it can’t be anything but sort of charming.”

“And you know,” Kendra adds. “I was going to take nutrition for my credit, but ping pong-“

“Bing bong pip pip tiny ball,” Sara corrects.

“But the class Rip is in,” Kendra says. “Seems a lot more fun. I could switch in.”

“I should get the credit out of the way, anyway,” Len says. “So that I’m not stuck with it senior year. I’m in.”

“This sounds like it’s gonna get weird,” Sara says. “I’m in.”

“You’re on the dance team,” Rip says. “You don’t need to register for the physical education requirement.”

“There’s requirements?” Sara asks.

Rip smacks his lips. “Oh. My God-“

“Don’t bother,” Jax says.

“Anyone else want in?” Sara asks. “Get in while the getting’s good.”

“Can’t,” Jax says. “I have to take nutrition because of my leg.”

“I took nutrition for fun as a freshman,” Ray says.

“I’m planning on putting this off as long as possible,” Mick says. “Besides. I’m too big for widdle-waddle teacups ball.”

“Noice,” Sara say.

“Thank you,” he replies.

“I really think this is unneeded,” Rip says. “I’d rather just take nutrition.”

“Too late,” Sara says. “Majority voted for pip pip skidoo.”

“We didn’t,” Rip says. “Three out seven voted, and three out of seven can’t play, and I vote no.”

“I vote you make him do it,” Mick says.

“Same,” Jax adds.

“Be comfortable in your body,” Ray says, sagely.

“I’m going to eat my paddle,” Rip says. “I will.”

Sara claps her hands.

“Paddle wot wot tiny ball,” she and Mick say, at once.

“Terrifying,” Rip says. “Dear God. I’m going to die.”

“Yeah, but we all are eventually,” Len says. “So. Where do we get those nifty shorts?”

 

 

—

 

 

This isn’t helping.

Rip had known, in the rational and oft-ignored part of his brain, that the formula to take table tennis from unbearable to disastrous was a simple one.

Just add Sara.  

“I’m sorry,” Rip says, eyes trying to find somewhere in the room that isn’t the expanse of her freckled thighs. “Are those  a children’s small?”

“Nah,” Sara says, snapping her waistband. “They’re a regular size.”

“They’re inside you.” He should’ve stopped himself on that one. Especially since Sara doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. She just grins.

“Whatever.” She bends one leg behind her back, catching her ankle. Her free hand finds Rip’s shoulder, digging into his skin. “Help me stretch.”

“Be careful.” He studies the way her shorts have shifted on her frame, hiking even further up her body. “You’ll flash the class.”

“What’s a little labia between friends?” she asks. He must blanch pretty obviously, because she bursts into a round of giggles. “And besides. If I’m hanging out, no one’s going to notice your pasty little legs.”

“I will,” Len remarks, appearing out of seemingly thin air to lean on the wall beside Rip. He’s got no sneakers, and the motorcycle boots and shorts combination works too well on him. “They’re like a strobe light through a fog.”

Sara switches legs. “Like a fresh coat of white paint.”

Len snickers. “Like-“

“I get it,” Rip snaps. “I’m extraordinarily white. I’m also your RA, and you could at least pretend to respect me in public.”

Sara and Len exchange a look.

Sara laughs first.

“Oh, come on,” Rip says. “Could you two not make this class an unmitigated terror? And where’s Kendra? I could use another rational-“

“Which one of these feels heavier?” Kendra asks, measuring the paddles in her hands. “Someone help me out here, because I’m pretty sure it’s this one-“ She gestures with her left hand. “But maybe I’m off?”

“Why did you cut off the bottom of your shirt?” Rip asks, knowing at once that he’s losing footing in the ‘at least two of us will be rational’ idea.

Kendra glances down. “I like it better this way.”

“Am I the only one that bothers putting a little bit of effort into this?” Rip says. “You’ve all made a mockery out of your uniforms.”

“Chill,” Sara says, tugging her arms behind her back. Rip certainly doesn’t notice how it makes her chest stick out, or anything. “We’re here because you were having uniform issues in the first place.”

“Seriously,” Kendra says. “I need someone to tell me which one of these is heavier. I feel like I’m going out of my mind.”

“Why does it matter?” Rip says. “It’s just table tennis.”

“It matters a lot, Rip,” Kendra says. “I’m just ounces between success and failure. Winning and losing. Victory and-“

“We get it,” Len says, taking the paddles from her. He glances at them. “This one,” he says. “This one’s heavier.”

Kendra snatches it from his hand. “Good. You can have the other one.”

“You’re too kind,” Len says.

“God,” Kendra remarks, running a hand through her hair. “I haven’t done any sports stuff in a while, you know? Not since like, the tenth grade. Oh God, I was on the volleyball team, and you should’ve seen my fucking serve. I blasted the girls from Star City all the way fucking home.”

“You’re saying ‘fuck,’ a lot,” Rip says. “Something you want to tell us?”

Kendra’s too busy studying her paddle. Brows furrowed, lips pursed. “I am going to look so good when I win,” she says. “God. You’re all going to be so fucking jealous.”

The three of them take a moment to stare.

“I can’t believe I’m not gonna be the one to ruin this class,” Sara says.

“Don’t-“ Rip sighs, and puts a hand on Kendra’s shoulder. “You know it’s just a silly class, right? This doesn’t matter.”

Kendra glances up at him. “That’s what losers say.”

He draws his lips into a line.

“Nothing personal,” she adds, as an afterthought. “I just don’t lose.”

“Help,” Rip says, to no one in particular. “Does anyone, anyone at all want to help me?”

“I should go stretch,” Kendra says. “Get my arms warmed up.”

“I could help,” Sara offers.

Kendra shakes her head. “This isn’t a team effort, Sara.”

With that, she wanders to the other side of the room, paddle tapping against her leg as she walks.

“Holy shit,” Sara says. “Is that like, the sexiest she’s ever been, or am I crazy?”

“You’re crazy,” Rip says.

“Nah, I see it,” Len says. “Kendra’s hot when she’s mean.”

“I want her to pull my hair a little,” Sara says. “Like, God damn.”

“She’d probably put that paddle to good use,” Len remarks.

Sara nods. “Fuck,” she says, thoughtfully.

Rip agrees with the sentiment. Though not for Sara’s reasons.

 

—

 

Ray is giving the leftover bread from his lunch to a pack of friendly squirrels. This is normal for him, and the squirrels on campus are so chubby and sweet that it would really be criminal not to feed them, he thinks.

And he’s so busy thinking about how cute squirrels are, really, and how this school really does need to make a more dedicated effort to preserve the wildlife that still remains in Central City, and also, squirrel powered electricity? That could be a thing-

He barely even notices the first 11 texts he receives on his phone.

By the first phone call, he’s sort of got an idea that something might be slightly amiss. He takes a moment to evenly distribute the remaining foodstuffs among the squirrels before pulling his phone out of his jacket.

**1 MISSED CALL FROM PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

Hey I lost my phone last night during a jetski accident but I found it did I read correctly that Kendra’s taking ping pong?

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

Ray just let me know. It’s not a big deal she’s just crazy competitive sometimes but I’m sure it’s nothing

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

Ray where are you? Is everything okay? Is she doing it already? Please tell me no one’s been stretching in front of her recently. She’s gonna take that as an invitation Ray text me back

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

RAY SHE IS VERY COMPETITIVE

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

Ray you don’t understand she and I didn’t speak for a week after a 9th grade monopoly incident

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

Oh my god are you guys playing monopoly

 

 

**TEXT FROM: PRINCE CARTER HALL <3 <3 <3**

**TO: ME**

RAY ANSWER ME

 

 

He’s halfway through the barrage of texts when Carter calls him a second time.

“So,” Ray says. “Should I be worried?”

“I don’t know,” Carter says. “Is Kendra playing a competitive sport?”

“It’s just ping pong,” Ray says.

“No, no,” Carter says. “Ray, it’s never just ping pong. It was just volleyball, you know.”

“Just…” Ray thinks this may be some kind of elaborate practical joke. Like Carter and Kendra are doing one of those bits of theirs. “Volleyball?”

“Have you ever seen a 15 year old make an entire opposing team cry, Raymond?” Carter asks, in a low voice. “Have you?”

“Um-“

“And it’s so unlike her,” Carter says. “She’s so kind, so gentle, and you think she’d be so genial about this. That she’d laugh it off. And then she doesn’t. She loses herself in the throes of competition. Like a new woman. An alter ego. And you’re almost hypnotized by it, the curves of her form as she strikes, the dulcet tones of her victorious laughter, the way her hair shines in the fluorescent lights…”

“Carter.”

“You need to pull her out of class, Ray. You’re going to need a cold compress, a lavender candle, and a mouth guard. I’m on my way.”

“Carter-“

“The mouth guard is for you!”

“DO I LIGHT THE CANDLE?” Ray yells back.

Carter’s already hung up.

 

 

—

 

 

“I never knew you could make someone cry over table tennis,” Rip remarks, studying the room. “I really wish I hadn’t had to learn this way.”

“I’ve never been more turned on,” Sara says, arms crossed under her bust, one long leg extended before her. “Like. God, when she spiked the ping pong ball? Major sploosh vibes.”

“Please don’t use the word sploosh near me,” Rip says.

“Sploosh,” Sara replies, decidedly.

“Sploosh,” Len adds, without changing his tone.

“Someone should do something,” Rip says. “Kendra’s going to burn the facility down to celebrate her victory, at this rate.”

His phone buzzes.

 

 

**TEXT FROM: THE HOTTEST GUY U KNO**

**TO: ME**

I heard we’re burning the gym down???

 

 

Rip’s eyebrows move firmly into his hairline. “How-“

“I’ve got an idea,” Sara says. “Hold on.” She whacks Rip in the face with her hair as she bends forward, looping her hair into a long, swishy ponytail. And then whacking Rip with it a second time, as she stands back up. “Hold my phone.”

She drops her phone into Rip’s hand. “Sara-“

“Hey, roommate,” Sara calls, swinging her paddle. “Want to try me on for size?”

“Sara!” Rip hisses, through his teeth. “What are you doing?”

“Living out a very specific fantasy,” Len says.

She shoots them a wink over her shoulder, then turns back to Kendra. “Come on. You scared?”

Kendra is a different kind of pretty, when she’s competitive. She’s always elegantly lovely, but right now? She looks like the Alpha Bitch from one of those teenage sports movies they’ve been forcing him to watch. Perfect, terrifying, and gorgeous.

Hell. Rip wouldn’t mind letting her have a go at him. But he likes his head on his shoulders.

“Your funeral,” Kendra replies, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’ll let you get first serve.”

“I don’t need you to go easy on me, baby girl,” Sara says. She takes a stance on the opposing side of the table. Leans forward, legs bent. “I’ve got this.”

“Sure, Sara,” Kendra says.

“I love it when you say my name,” Sara replies.

“One of you just hit the tiny ball already,” Len says. “Come on. What kind of smut film are you girls making, here?”

“Shut it, Leonard,” Kendra says. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, Sara’s right,” Len says. “Chills.”

Kendra smirks to no one in particular. Probably to herself. And serves.

What’s surprising is that Sara slams it right back.

Kendra returns it.

Sara doesn’t miss.

And neither does Kendra.

“Oh my God,” Rip says. “She can actually play table tennis.”

Someone is absolutely going to die here.

 

 

“This is exactly what it sounds like when they’re fucking,” Len says, about five minutes into the most tragically competitive round of table tennis to ever grace a public university. “A lot of breathy moaning.”

“How would you know?” Rip asks.

“Oh,” Len says. “Have you not been invited to that three way?”

Rip ignores the image that pops into his head. “No.”

Len’s giving one of those catlike grins, and Rip hates him for it. “Shame.”

“Come on,” Kendra yells. “Where’s that aim, Sara?”

“I’m just warming up,” Sara says.

Len pats Rip on the back. “Exactly. What. It sounds like.”

“Stop,” Rip says.

“Hey!” Sara points an accusatory paddle. “That’s an out of bounds hit.”

Kendra shakes her head. “It was in bounds.”

“It went off the table!” Sara says.

“So?” Kendra says. “Keep up.”

Sara grumbles something to herself. Bounces the ball once against the table, and then hits it directly against Kendra’s head. “Boom.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kendra says. “What the crap was that?”

“Come on,” Sara says, twirling the paddle between her fingers. “Can’t you keep up?”

Kendra’s next serve flies past Sara, past the tables, and out the door.

“Well,” Sara says. “Go get it.”

“I’m not getting it,” Kendra says. “You go get it.”

“Ten seconds,” Len says.

Rip looks over to him. “Ten seconds until what?”

“Kendra,” Sara says, walking over to the other side of the table. “Go get the ball.”

“You were supposed to hit it back,” Kendra says. “You go get it.”

“Len,” Rip says. “Ten seconds until what?”

“Just wait another five seconds,” Len says.

“Well if neither one of us is going to get it,” Sara says. “I guess it’s game over.”

Kendra bristles. “I guess.”

“And since I had more points-“

“You did not!” Kendra says, immediately, fearsomely. “You were losing so fucking badly! I was making you look like an idiot in front of every-“

“God, you are so fucking hot like this,” Sara says.

Rip doesn’t see Kendra move. All he sees is Sara’s being slammed against the table, and Kendra is firmly settling on top of her, kissing the air out of her lungs.

“And touchdown,” Len says. “Right on time.”

“Holy shit,” Rip says.

Sara tangles her hands in Kendra’s hair. Sucks Kendra’s lower lip into her mouth. She wraps around Kendra’s leg, grinding against Kendra’s hip-

“Girls!” Holy shit, there’s a teacher in here? “Girls, stop!”

Kendra’s hand moves under Sara’s shirt.

 

 

“I’m here!” Ray announces, bursting into the rec room. “I had to go out and buy a candle! Am I too late?”

“Yes,” Rip says. “Absolutely.”

“Oh,” Ray says, finally noticing what’s unfolding on the poor, unsuspecting table to his left. “So I don’t need the mouth guard, then?” He holds up a small plastic bag.

“Why did you need a mouth guard?” Rip says.

“Carter told me,” Ray says. “He lost his phone in a jet ski accident.”

“What?” Rip yells. “Why-“

“That is so classic him,” Len says.

“I’m almost positive our teacher just left to go get security,” Rip says. “Am I the only one who-“

“There was a teacher in here?” Len asks. “Shit.”

“Could we please get them off each other before they get expelled for FINGERING EACH OTHER IN THE REC ROOM?”

Ray cocks his head. “They’re not-“ He glances over to them. “Oh. Oh yeah okay.”

“Please pick up Kendra,” Rip says, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

“But…” Ray looks at his bags. “I’m holding a candle.”

“Is it lit?” Rip asks.

Ray frowns. “No.”

“Then pick up Kendra,” he says. “For fuck’s sake, Raymond.”

“Hey!” Len says, straightening his shoulders. “Ray didn’t tell them to fuck on the table.”

“Why,” Rip says. “Why this. Why me?”

Ray gently taps Kendra’s back. “Going up, babe.” He hoists her over his shoulder before she and Sara can detangle.

“Hey!” Sara protests. Her ponytail’s fallen almost entirely out, mouth smeared with Kendra’s shiny lipgloss. “I wasn’t done here.”

“We’re switching to nutrition,” Rip says, grabbing her by the arm. “We’re switching to nutrition and we are NOT GETTING EXPELLED TODAY, SARA.”

“God, chill,” Sara says. “You never let me have any fun.”

Rip rubs his temples. “Don’t finger people in class, Sara,” he says. “That’s not on me. That’s on the school, Sara. That’s on the SCHOOL, SARA.”

“Scream my name some more, yikes,” Sara says, hopping off the table. “Why is Ray carrying Kendra?”

“Excellent question,” Kendra says, from behind Ray’s back.

“I got you a candle,” Ray says.

“Aw, babe, that’s so sweet of you,” she says.

“Can we go?” Len says. “Or are we going to wait for security to get here?”

“Leaving,” Sara says. She smacks the back of Kendra’s leg.

Kendra tries to kick at her. “Hey!”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Sara says.

“It really is a show, isn’t it?” Rip says, following them out. “It’s just a sideshow, and we’re the thing people pay money to throw popcorn at. Help me. I need help.”

“Would you stop whining?” Len says. “We survived ping pong with Kendra. That’s something.”

“I’m not that bad,” Kendra protests.

“Ray is fireman’s carrying you across campus,” Len says.

She can’t argue with that.

 

 

—

 

 

They settle in Rip’s room without asking. Again. Which is fine, since Mick’s already there. And Carter. Carter’s shown up. So that’s happening.

Ray gently puts Kendra down on the bed, kissing her forehead before he stands. She blinks up at the ceiling. “So,” she says. “That happened.”

“You’re crazy hot.” Sara flops down next to her. “Seriously. Why don’t you play more sports? You said you played volleyball for a little.”

Kendra settles onto the bed, crossing her legs in front of her.

For a second, she locks eyes with Carter. Rip’s polite enough to pretend not to notice.

“I just didn’t want to anymore,” Kendra says. She shrugs. “I got bored with it.”

“Shame,” Sara says. “Because you’re fucking amazing, Kendra.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m terrifying, actually.”

“Hot, though,” Len says.

“Yeah?” Mick asks.

“Yeah,” Len says. “Like a totally different Kendra. Imagine her with some real bloodlust.”

Mick lets out a low whistle.

“Ray,” Carter says. “Want to light the candle?”

“Yes!” Ray says. “Carter told me you like lavender. And he also told me to buy a mouthguard, which I did, but I don’t think I’m gonna need it.”

“You’ll need it when I’m in your ass later,” Mick says.

A beat.

“What?” Mick says. “If he spent the money on it, he might as well use it.”

“That’s not what that silence was for,” Rip says.

“Whatever,” Mick says. “I’m not sorry for being helpful.”

“You’re not allowed to light candles in the dorms,” Rip says, as Carter strikes a match behind him.

“Really?” Sara says. “We have candles going all the time.”

“I know, Sara,” Rip says. “I know.”

“Sets the mood,” Sara says, nudging Kendra’s knee with her own. “You know? We were kind of in the middle of something, too.”

“That’s my bed,” Rip says. “Don’t finger Kendra in my bed.”

Kendra gives a wry kind of grin. She meets his eyes, for just a moment.

There’s a look shared between people that have experienced similar things. A look where this experience becomes plainly clear.

But it’s not of Rip’s business. And his business is none of hers. “Yes, Kendra?”

“You could finger us, I guess,” she says. “Since it is your bed.”

“She’s right,” Carter says. “You’ve gotta do it, Rip.”

“The enjoyment you get out of watching your girlfriend get fucked by other people,” Len says. “Is-“

“Art,” Mick says.

“Thank you, Mick,” Len says.

“Also,” Sara says. “Kendra’s sort of my girlfriend, so.” She pulls Kendra back onto the bed. “Come on, Rip. Put your hands in my shorts and I’ll put my hand in yours.”

“We’re blowing out the candle.” Rip says. He’d blow it out now, but he’s being pulled to the bed by an invisible force. Probably a ghost. “As soon as I finish this, we are blowing out this candle. We’ve gotten in enough trouble today.”

“No such thing as too much trouble,” Sara says.

“I don’t know,” Kendra says. “I did sort of like, commit an explicit sexual act with you in class.”

“You didn’t finger me until the teacher left,” Sara says. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Rip says. “I really didn’t want to take nutrition.”

Sara smacks his pillow over his face. “Yeah,” she says. “But at least now the campus will be spared the sight of your pasty lil legs.”

“You could’ve blinded people, Rip,” Len says.

“Be more considerate, you ass,” Mick adds.

Rip groans, and gladly lets the blankets overtake him.

 


End file.
